Sweet, Idle Fantasy
by Crossroad Avarice
Summary: because that was what it was, some idle hope - that maybe, just maybe, he could have that sort of future with her. Rex/Ahsoka; TWO-SHOT
1. Chapter 1

**Rila:** _I GOT THIS PART FINISHED i KNOW I SAID IT'D BE DONE BUT I GOT MORE IDEAS FOR A SECOND PART _ So. Hope this is to your liking, _Sachariah_! If it isn't, let me know and I'll take it down and revise it. :3 Music inspiration — _Are We There Yet_ by _Ingrid Michaelson. THE SECOND PART WILL MAKE MORE SENSE I SWEAR_

Disclaimer: _CRAP WHY WASN'T THIS UP SOONER WAIT THAT'S WHAT CAFFINE IS FOR_

Word Count: 2,095

Chapter Description: A future that was unknown for both of them.

* * *

It was quiet.

It was not something that bothered him, and he found comforting in the lack of words. No explosions, no giving orders and obeying orders in return. No blaster bolts, no shouts of his brothers. Nothing but the crackle of the fire before him and the occasional cry from the wildlife, though nothing ventured close enough to warrant the use of his blasters. Cleaned properly, they sat to his left, ready at a moment's notice.

Footsteps approached, light and barely audible over the noise of the fire, though he did not turn around to identify who it was — he did not have to.

"May I join you?" The tone was light, though there was no hint of teasing. She did not need to ask, but she had taken to asking his opinion on everything since their discussion after Umbara. Though it was not needed, it was appreciated. He nodded, and moved, crossing to sit on the other side of the fire, across from him.

There was a glint from the cylinders attached to her belt, and his mouth curved into a small smile. Even though this planet was rather peaceful, no one seemed eager to press their luck in disarming themselves.

"I figured you'd be out here," she spoke, though this time there was a teasing note to her voice, her eyes glittering with amusement as she looked at him over the leaping tongues of orange and yellow. "Couldn't sleep?"

He shook his head. As of late, thoughts that were not suited towards someone of his status — both as clone and as Captain — had begun to frequently invade his mind, and, unable to dispell them long enough to get any proper amount of sleep, he had found himself here, trying to clear his thoughts.

Ahsoka's arrival, though not unpleasant and not unwelcome, had done nothing to help banish said thoughts — in fact, they had only made it worse, as she was generally involved in those sorts of thoughts. Thoughts of the future beyond the war, a future that, when he had asked Fives, after Krell had fallen, his brother had not been able to answer. No one knew what happened to a clone after the war.

Regardless, he had never given himself much room to think of those things, dismissing them as pointless — the Kaminoans had never encouraged such things, nor had he ever had reason to even toy with the idea of a future beyond the war — but in light of what had happened recently, it gave rise to the thoughts that he had dismissed so easily before.

And with those thoughts of the future came what it might entail, though Rex was wary in letting himself linger on it for too long. He had seen far too many brothers fall to assume that he would even see the end of the war. And though it was a cruel truth, he was not _meant_ to see the end of the war. Clones were expendable, though he had been told time and time again by Ahsoka that his life — and the lives of his brothers — were not so easily thrown away.

Not for the first time, he wondered what it would be like to see things through her eyes, to acknowledge them and understand them as she did. Though she was a far cry from the wide-eyed, naive Padawan she had once been, there was still a certain innocence to her views, a confidence and determination that could not be shaken. It was admirable, to say the least.

That admiration that had begun after the battle on Christophsis had changed over time, however, and developed into something more than just simple _admiration_ for the Togruta Jedi. It was a friendship, a mutual leaning upon each other for comfort and support when needed — but it too, had turned into something else. Though it was his duty as a clone to protect Jedi, he was certain that none of his brothers felt the same sense of protection towards Ahsoka as he did.

The concern when she was injured — even though she brushed it off as trivial — because she, unlike he and his brothers, was not replaceable. There was not another Togruta that could take her place. Ahsoka seemed to take after her Master in regards to being reckless towards her own safety, and though he was usually there to watch her back, there was a muted worry when he was not.

"Rex?" Ahsoka's voice reached him, but it was not until a small pebble was launched at him and bounced off his armor that he looked up, catching the glimmer of relief in her gaze as she continued, "You looked like you were in pretty deep thought." Concern replaced the relief, and her mouth pulled down as she watched him. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Just thinking," he clarified, and one of the white lines over her eyes arched, an unspoken 'About what?' prompting him to add, "After the war."

Her mouth tugged at one corner and then the other, a small smile that lingered as she said, "I've thought about that."

Rex blinked. Ahsoka had never seemed like someone who would give much thought to the future after the war, as there was little that she would be able to do. She was a Jedi, and it would be her role to keep the peace that the end of the war would bring about. He did not press her for details, though she shifted and began speaking, perhaps prompted by her own line of thinking to do so.

"After the war ends...I'd like to see Shili again." Her tone took on a wistful edge as she leaned forward, elbows resting atop her knees and her face supported by her hands, fingers splayed over the white markings on her cheeks. Her attention had shifted from Rex to the fire, and she stared at it as she continued. "I know I wouldn't be able to stay, but...It'd be nice." She lapsed into silence for a few moments before she resumed, though her voice had grown quieter, though it was still audible over the crackle and pop of the fire. "My species...they're really big on community and family. So it's rare for someone to be so independent." Her nose wrinkled. "I'm the oddball, I guess."

Ahsoka could have said more, but she stopped herself. She was not supposed to have attachments, though she had formed her own 'family' through the people that she knew. Master Plo was the closest thing to a father that she had, while Anakin acted more like a brother. Barriss was like a wise, older sister. And Rex — she halted her train of thought, chevrons of her montrals darkening as her face warmed, though it was not from the heat of the fire. The rational side of her knew better than to form feelings for him — much less acknowledge that she already had them. But it was difficult not to form attachments, especially when she spent so much time with him, though it was outside of battle as well. There was no one — not even her Master — that she trusted more.

Clearing her throat to dismiss her less than appropriate thoughts, Ahsoka returned her attention to the clone sitting across from her. "So...what do you want to do after the war?"

"I don't know if there will be a future for me after the war," he answered and then smiled, but the gesture was humorless and rather bitter. "I'm a clone, Ahsoka. I don't know if there can be a future for someone who was bred for the war."

Anger flared, and Ahsoka stood. "Of course there's a future for you, Rex! Even if you are a clone, you're still _you._ A person." Her tone quieted, and she moved to sit back down, only to change her mind at the last moment and move around the fire to take a seat next to him. "Don't let anyone tell you any different, Rex." Her mouth curved. "Now, what do you plan on doing after the war?"

Rex's lips twitched upwards for a moment before he began to speak. He already knew what he wanted, and though he trusted Ahsoka, he was not sure if he was ready to share it with her. "I don't know."

Ahsoka snorted. "Come on, there has to be _something._" She pushed at his shoulder, the action friendly and playful. "You could become a farmer, or become a business man or—" she paused when he snorted and shook his head, giving him a _look._ "Don't blame me. At least _I'm_ coming up with ideas. Or you could..." Her head tilted before she continued, "You could meet someone. Someone nice, and pretty...and you could fall in love with her, and get married. And have a house, and a family."

The soft, wistful tone from earlier was back, and Rex glanced over. She was not watching him, her posture like it had been before, though her fingers had curled to rest over her lips, her gaze locked on some obscure point. There was a bittersweet edge to the smile that had curved the edges of her lips upward, a longing for an ending that she could not have. She was a Jedi, she was not allowed to have attachments, not allowed to form the bonds that her people created so easily. She could watch from a distance, just as he did. A glimpse into a life that she could never have — a life that he had seen when he had met Cut and his wife Suu.

A life without battles, a life without wondering if today would be their last, a life without the war — a life with a family.

Something he had never had — and to a certain point, neither had Ahsoka. Though she had been born to a mother and a father, she did not remember them. She had told him so earlier on in their friendship, and waved it away with a soft smile akin to the one on her lips now as she replied, _"I have a family here."_

_"This is your home. My family is elsewhere."_

The words he had spoken to Cut as he left, having decided to leave his brother in peace. His family was comprised of his brothers, ones who shared the same face as him but had so very different personalities. They were as close to a family as he had, and he valued each one of them. But it was not the same as what Cut had. He had a wife and children, a house of his own.

His attention returned to Ahsoka. She had lapsed into silence, her face bathed partially in warm light from the fire, the rest in cool shadow. Though she had quite the attitude, he knew her to be kind and compassionate, worried more over the lives of those around her than her own. Strong, confident. Graceful, beautiful — and she was not his. The sort of future that he wanted — he wanted with _her._ It was a selfish thought, dreadfully so. And yet —

"Do you want a family, Rex?" Her voice startled him, and he watched as she turned towards him, the look that she gave him one of bittersweet sorrow, the same as her smile. She said nothing, however, waiting for his answer. He did not answer right away, contemplating before finally answering in a voice just audible over the fire,

"Yes."

He did not elaborate, and she didn't ask him to, only scooted closer and placed her head on his shoulder, an action that prompted him to place an arm around her shoulders, tucking her closer. He said nothing more, nor did she — they simply sat in silence, contemplating the future and what it would mean for both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rila:** AAAHHH THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO POST. Gah. Truth of the matter is _I'm just really, really, really horrid at updating things when I need to_ But hey, with all the brand new Ahsoka/Rex feels — _'cause hey look they acknowledged that there's something between them_ — and you're lucky that this isn't full of more angst because _Noble Team_ and the repeated 'It's okay/I'm okay/It'll be okay' is akin to when a parent or a sibling reassures a small child, "It is/will be okay." NOT SURE IF THIS MAKES ANY MORE SENSE THAN THE LAST PART DID BUT _CARPE DIEM_ (I refuse to say YOLO, as that's _Carpe Diem_ for stupid people)

Disclaimer:_ Hnng I don't even like Halo Reach but gah the Noble Team gah it's like Domino Squad noooo_

Word Count: 2,784

Chapter Description: And there was hope. There was always hope.

* * *

She had always wanted to be a Jedi.

There was nothing beyond that, no other possibility — she had never given herself the chance to come up with another possibility. She had trained so hard, worked her fingers to the bone, and finally, _finally_, become what she strove to be.

And then found that it was harder than it looked. She had never entertained the delusion that it was _simple,_ but she had never, _never_ thought that she'd be thrown into a position where her decisions, her actions, affected everyone around her. Her choices between what was right and wrong was the difference between life and death for some, and even though she tried her hardest, there were always far too many casualties.

Too many bodies, clad in the white plastoid armor that she knew so well, strewn along the ground as gruesome mementos that reminded her of what _could have been._ If she had been faster, if she'd been stronger, if she hadn't taken so long in getting over there where they so obviously needed her —

"Ahsoka." Her name, spoken by a man that she knew so very well, broke through her thoughts. She squared her shoulders — not against him, but against the emotions that pulsed with each throb of her heart — but did not turn, even as he came to a stop beside her. He was not shoulder to shoulder with her, but just close enough that she could feel the lightest of touches, the brush of smooth, if not slightly dented, plastoid against her skin.

He did not speak, did not reach for her hand or place a hand on her shoulder — but his presence was enough, soothing the ragged edges of guilt and blame that she lay upon herself like duracrete. _This,_ she knew far too well, was the brutality and honesty of war. Those of the public, those that they protected — they got the glossed over, preening version — a version of victory, of unstoppable force. Of pride and protection.

They did not get the reports of losses, of battle-scarred individuals and the resounding emptiness of LAATis that had, in the beginning, been alive with voices just hours before the battle. They did not see the harsh, cold reality. What they saw was, unfortunately as of late, a lie. Forces were waning, strength was fading — the war was finally taking its toll.

She was not immune to it, and she would be the first to admit that she did not _feel_ the same as she had before, no longer naive and painfully ignorant to the cold, grim grip of war. She had changed, her Master had changed — and so had the man behind her. She turned, not all the way, but just enough so that she could see him.

He had removed his bucket, the item attached at his belt. His armor had never been clean in the time that she had known him — but there were a few new additions, new scrapes and dents and scuffs to the armor that she found so familiar. It was armor that she sought out after every battle, trying to comfort herself with the knowledge that at least _he_ still remained.

Rex, even with the lines that had most definately _not_ been there before across his face, even with the battle-weary look to his eye, even with the knowledge of having lost so many more brothers, remained a constant. A solid, reassuring constant that she found that she relied on more and more. And perhaps, in a way, it was selfish — she could not keep him forever, he was not _hers_ — and yet, she found that she didn't care.

Because as long as he remained, as long as she had him, as long as — and she ignored the possessive connotation to it — he was _her_ Captain, things would be alright. It was some stupid, silly idea, an almost romantic notion in some ways — but the fact still stood.

As long as she had him, everything would be okay.

* * *

It was the ache of her head and the persistent pressure of light just beyond her eyelids that woke Ahsoka, and she groaned, nearly surprised by the raw, hoarse sound of it as she opened her eyes. Immediately she wanted to close them, and she lowered her lids — not all the way, but just enough to allow her vision to compensate for the sudden introduction of such harsh lighting — and became aware of where she was.

She was in the medical bay. It smelt too clean to be anywhere else, too much like blood and bacta and sterile things. There was a presence beside her, a presence she would have known even without the acknowedgement of the presence in the Force. The steady thrumming, a pulse of waves that she had grown so attached to.

"Rex," she greeted, shifting her head to the side. The name alone brought a sleepy smile to her lips — a smile that wilted under the firm scrutiny and flickers of relief and concern that he examined her with.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired, his tone distant, polite — but with still an undercurrent of worry and concern that matched in his eyes. Ahsoka shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position so that she could still look at him and avoid getting a knot in her neck — and winced when it started a low, pulsing throb in her head.

"Like I got ran over by a herd of banthas," she replied, and could not keep the amused quirk from forming on her lips as he shook his head in both exasperation and amusement before he motioned to the medical droid. "I don't need anything."

Rex gave her a probing look, one that pretty much _said_ that there would be no downplaying of her injuries — and whatever extent that they were — and so she sighed, allowing herself to recieve the dose of painkiller. It muted the ache, and though she felt almost loopy, she found enough coherency to resume speaking. "What happened?"

"We won," answered Rex, but that wasn't the answer that Ahsoka wanted. It was, but she wanted more, wanted to know what had happened after she had apparently lost consciousness. It came back in fragments to herself, the proximity to an explosion that had thrown her through the air and against the hard ground — but there was nothing beyond that, an irritating gap that she needed to close.

Ahsoka stared up at the bright, blinding lights before glancing back at him. "How many casualties?"

Rex frowned. "Ahsoka—"

"Rex." Her gaze met his, a pleading quality to it. It was not that she _wanted_ to know how many men she had lost, how many brothers Rex would never see again — but that she _needed_ to know. Either out of a masochistic sense or to comfort or berate herself, she needed to know. And then the number came, a number that was both worse and not quite as bad as she had thought it to be.

It had her staring back up at the bright lights, trying to wash out the burning ache of tears in her eyes. She was a Commander, she had no right to cry — not when there were more battles to face, not when she was depended upon. She could not cry. She _would not_ cry. Swallowing hard, she shifted, refocusing her attention upon him. "And Master?"

A muscle in Rex's jaw tightened, and Ahsoka's stomach plummeted. Now, more so than ever, her Master's behavior had been strange — the bouts of anger over inconsequential things, the terrifying _fury_ with which he swept through enemy lines, and the unconcealed _terror_ that he eyed her with whenever she received new bruises and fresh cuts. It was a terrifying change for him, and Ahsoka did not like it one bit.

Ahsoka closed her eyes and resisted the urge to cry once more, the struggle eased by the fall of a hand, warmer and larger than her own, against her right, a reassuring squeeze that, though it had been repeated many a time before, said more than words ever could. Her eyes, still blurring and swimming with unshed tears, locked with brown. The kind, warm brown that she knew so well, that made her chest squeeze and ache in a way that she was beginning to accept as something more than just _friendship._

Swallowing back her tears, swallowing back the overwhelming worry and concern and fear for her Master, Ahsoka squeezed back, and forced a smile. "I'm okay."

* * *

Everything was not okay.

It repeated, resounded, echoed, a mantra in her head. _Wrong. Something is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong._

Her troops — her beloved, friendly, brotherly, _loyal_ troops — had tried to kill her. And when she had thought it could not get any worse — she had _felt _it, a resounding echo of emptiness within the Force. Strong presences, familiar presences — they were gone. Gone in a nature that was permanent, that would not be returning — they were _dead._ Master Plo, Master Luminara, Master Secura — gone, by the hands of the soldiers that they had fought beside for so long. And some, Ahsoka had realized, the young ones, the small, tiny younglings who had never had a chance to become Padawans — they were gone too, but slayed by an entirely _different _hand.

Her own Master. Her own Master, Skyguy, Anakin — the man who she'd come to love as a brother. And when she reached for him through the Force — to try and see if she could understand _why_ he had done such a thing — all she could feel was an all consuming _hatred_ and _fury_ that had her stomach twisting in knots and resisting the urge to heave.

Whatever he had become — _whoever_ he had become — that was _not_ her Master. Her Master was gone, and he may as well have been dead for all the resemblance to the man that he had once been that this new entity held. Shivering, Ahsoka tucked her knees in closer and wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to ward off the echoing lonliness that cornered her in all aspects.

"Ahsoka." The call of her name brought her attention back to the world that still existed, and she opened her eyes. She did not look at him, however, and shook her head when he continued, "Look at me."

She refused, and hands — so warm, so gentle — came to either side of her face and guided her head up so that she could not turn away, forced to meet his gaze. There was the same sense of shock and disbelief in his eyes as there was in her own, an incredulity for his own actions in raising a gun against his own brothers. For her. He, and he alone, was the reason that she still breathed. It had been him who had tackled her down to the ground, shielding her, protecting her from the sudden barrage of bright blue blaster bolts.

And now they were safely aboard the _Twilight_, catapulting towards some point that, Ahsoka was sure, not even Rex knew of. And it was not just in a physicial sense that they were drifting towards the unknown — but in other aspects, because there was no _way_ that things could remain the way that they were. The Republic had fallen. And with it, everything that they both knew.

It was not until Rex's thumbs were sweeping beneath her eyes that Ahsoka realized that she was crying, her vision blurring and burning until at last, she threw herself forward with a cry, latching onto him with a desperation borne out of a need to confirm that he was still there, and that she was not completely alone. Despite the hard ridges of plastoid that bit into her skin as he wrapped his arms around her in return, the pressure and presence was reassuring and comforting all at once. She allowed herself to cry, and he said nothing as he held her, a gloved hand sweeping up and down her back until her sobs had quieted out into strangled hiccups and shuddering sighs. And still she clung to him, not wanting to let go just yet. "What are we going to do, Rex? What _can_ we do?"

"I don't know, Ahsoka." His voice was quiet, tired, and resigned as he sighed and repeated, "I don't know."

Shivering with a shaky inhalation of air, she blinked as he pulled away and shifted into a more comfortable position, his back against the durasteel wall of the _Twilight_ before he reached for her again, tucking her against him. She allowed herself to be cradled as such, her head resting upon his shoulder. The silence almost reminded her of the night they had discussed family and the possibility of such — at least, for him. But that had been before all of this and now —

"Is there any hope left, Rex?" she inquired, and for a moment, she was unsure of what exactly she was asking about — but in a way, though it was awkwardly phrased and almost without direction, it made sense. Was there any hope left? Hope that this was all just a mistake, that it was all just a nightmare — that there would be anything left for them to look forward to? No doubt, as morbid as it was and as much as Ahsoka hated to think of it, they would be looked for. They would be hunted down if they weren't careful.

Instead of answering her right away, Rex sighed and then shifted so that he could see her. And then he began speaking. "I never did tell you about what happened on Saleucami, did I?" For a moment, Ahsoka was confused — and the confusion only deeped further as she recalled what he was referencing.

"No," she answered slowly, white lines above her eyes furrowing, "but I don't see what that has to do with the situation at hand, Rexter."

Perhaps it was because she called him by his nickname, but Rex smiled — though it wasn't a complete smile, more of a softer, bittersweet one that disappeared as he began talking. Though Ahsoka was still confused as to why he was bringing this up now, she settled herself against him and listened as he spoke. She did not interrupt him, and by the time that he had finished, she was staring up at him, uncertain of what to say. It made sense now, however, his desire for a family — after seeing one of his brothers with one that was not comprised of faces similar to his own — it was a goal worth striving for.

She was still confused, however, as to why he had told her this now, when that sort of ending seemed so very far away — and when she asked, that same smile that had been there before returned as he answered, "Because there's always room to hope, Ahsoka."

She blinked, stared — and then smiled, tucking her head back against his shoulder. "You're right," she mused, "there's always room to hope."

* * *

_I looked up at the sky and saw the Pillar of Autumn depart into the heavens. I couldn't help but gaze out at the barren landscape stained with the blood of my fallen brothers. Covenant drop ships were swarming around me, I could hear the inhumane roars of Elites out in the distance. I was a lone wolf once again. Death seemed certain, there was no escape. No, I told myself it is not my time to die, I will survive. I grabbed my rifle assuring myself, "There will be another time..."_ — Noble Six, _Halo Reach._


End file.
